countdown!

2 days (approx) to getting a proper night’s sleep and waking up a new, clear-airwayed woman!

20 days until I visit the most scrumptious toddler who has ever lived (and my sister)!!

Huh. I guess that’s all I’m looking forward to right now but I’m still pretty jazzed.

Things have fizzled with the guy I just started dating, because of course. With no new potential dating prospects, I’m going to be slightly more vulnerable to booty calls than I already was. But maybe my wayward friend can assist me in strapping on the CPAP, which I’m certain is going to be a sexy look for me.

relapse

I spent part of my weekend tangled up in bed with a guy I thought I might not see again. Nothing has changed, except that he did make an apology. I’m not comfortable speaking my mind with him; I’m not really myself around him. We are nothing but good sleepover buddies. He’s proven that he’s not grown up enough for anything else (and not creative enough to come up with better excuse than “I lost my phone.”) But like always, I’m glad he came over.

There’s another fellow I’ve been on two great dates with, but we couldn’t make plans this past weekend. And we aren’t anywhere near serious. We aren’t a thing and we haven’t made physical contact.

I’m afraid I’m always going to fall back on door #1 because it is easy and comforting and an instant cure for boredom.

I like the feeling of his weight on me. I hate sending an email and being nervous that every time is the time he might not reply. I like running my hands over his back. I hate editing myself in conversation because I’m trying to be as appealing as possible, like I’m at a job interview. I like falling asleep with his arms draped over me. I hate trying to think of unique date ideas.

Sex is so easy. I always have this nagging feeling that I shouldn’t just keep doing something (someone) because I’m waiting for what I really want to come along. But I can’t think of a reason why.

On principle, with the rude ignoring thing, I was definitely not going to sleep with him again. I had kind of declared it. I was settling in for a nice, potentially long, dry season. Then I don’t know…boredom happened. I have needs!

And that was not even two days ago, and I feel like I need more. I’ve chewed on four of my fingernails.

hard stuff

I am fighting so hard to stay awake right now. 7:30 = my sleepiness threshold. It’s hard.

Follow up next week to review my sleep study results. I hope I’ll hear something definitive but if I need a machine, I will have to do a second study.

I got a gift certificate from my favorite person to a local butcher shop with a suggestion to, quote,”fill your evenings with more meat than you can handle.” So difficult to not spend that all at once. I should donate blood – I think my iron number is about to get real high.

I want a pedicure. I’m being very subdued with the object of my potential affection, but I want to seduce him with perfectly appointed toes. I definitely will not be doing that because it would be irresponsible. This month is rough (yuck, fiscal obligation) and in three weeks I’m flying to visit my sister and my munchkin. (So, need to set aside serious breakfasting funds.) No foot spending allowed.

I want to adopt a kitten and give him a pun name. Chairman Meow. I’m sure that joke has been done but I love it. Meow! That’s What I Call Music! and so many others were suggested by my brother ages ago. But no kitten spending allowed. I don’t see any more pets in this apartment. Edward R. Meow!* Aw. Oh well, adult impulses win again.

Speaking of adult impulses, I’ve failed to be slutty for almost a month. Hope everything still works ok down there.

 

*Definitely stolen from The Office.

bedtime blogging III: fuck off circadian rhythm, who needs you anyway

I set my birthday as the deadline for finally applying for the masters program I want to do in the fall. Today I dropped the application into a mailbox. I’m working on forgetting about it so as not to stress and analyze my chances and criticize myself into insanity. Two references have to be sent directly to the program and one I fear might take awhile, so I don’t know how long it will take for me to hear back. I was pretty confident before. I’m right for this program but you never know…

Hamlet just huffily jumped out of bed. I don’t think he likes night time phone blogging. Seems jealous that my hands are occupied. He would rather have a captive audience to pet him until he falls asleep. You and me both, mister.

bedtime cell phone blogging II: electric bugaloo

It’s been quiet around here. I went on two very nice dates these past two weekends. I’m hopeful again that some one person out there could be perfect for me and since I’m not insane I’m not saying this is that person but there is enough potential that I’m having fun again with dating. I think I met a good one.

In a week I’ll be 27.

I’m comforted by the idea that I’m not a year closer to death, but instead am regularly a day/hour/minute/second closer to death and never even notice. Sometimes never.

friend break up

I’ve had an emotional week, as I’m sure a lot of people have.

I just walked home from a friend’s house and I had to tell him that, actually, we can’t be friends right now. I’m sad, to the point that I ache. I just have the feeling that it’s right.

It’s still hard for me to really set boundaries for myself with other people, when I like them. He has every right to make the choices he’s making and I tried to make that clear. I understand where he’s at. But fuck, it’s not healthy for me to be around someone I care about and see them emotionally self-destruct. It’s not in my control, so I need to remove myself from it. It is right, that we had this conversation.

I hope this is temporary. Even if it is, it’s a loss.

My inner circle is small and cozy and I like that usually. Now I’m going to be missing a little chunk of it. This is good for me to do but it’s making me feel lonely and sad and mean and judgmental and lonely.

requirements

Recently I developed a new test for judging potential partners. (That’s what I desperately need, more ways to narrow down the immense pool of great, eligible men trying to bang down my door.)

Remember that moment in Bridesmaids where Jon Hamm, playing a painfully convincing uberdouche, greets the main character cheerfully with “BOOM. What’s up, fuck buddy!” I died. The line is fantastic, it’s so perfectly callous and offensive of him and sadly believable. Oh fictional overconfident selfish turd, I have screwed so many of you.

By the way, it’s very possible to have a fuck buddy friends with benefits slam piece relationship and maintain that casual intimacy without hurt feelings and with good sex. I’m sure of it. Dude in Bridesmaids was not good sex. The one time attractive but totally useless and unfortunate would-be fuck buddies that I have encountered were either not good sex or they were too self-impressed for me to stand being near.

“Hey fuck buddy!” serves to demonstrate how clueless and rude the speaker is in the movie, while being hilarious. I do not recommend ever referring to one’s fuck buddy in this manner – there are too many variables and it’s not going to be cute in 99% of circumstances, even if you are not a douche.

BUT, is fuck buddy not the cutest most ironic pet name for anyone in an actual loving and committed long term relationship? Ugh. If I loved someone and they rocked my socks off in bed and they cuddled and watched Home Movies with me and referred to me sweetly as “fuck buddy?” Gah! I’m sorry, that is adorable.

That is the new bar. For someone to appreciate me as a full, complex individual with all kinds of crap to offer them and for that person to have the kind of sense of humor and sensibility to appreciate “fuck buddy” as the ultimate moniker for one’s soul mate.

It’s not a test that can really be put practically into place, but I’ll be testing in my imagination.